


The Way These Stories Go

by canwetalkaboutcaptainswan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Era, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, One Shot Collection, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 19:46:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10974111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canwetalkaboutcaptainswan/pseuds/canwetalkaboutcaptainswan
Summary: A collection of Captain Swan One(or two or three)-Shots! Enjoy :)





	1. What comes before (and shall forevermore)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiny bitty pre-wedding snippet.

He **_hates_** this. **_Loathes it._** Who bloody came up with this sodded tradition anyway? He tries to concentrate on the waves beneath him, tries to let them lull him to sleep as they used to so effortlessly. It doesn’t work. He looks over from his spot in the Captain’s bunk to where David is deep in slumber, arm slung over the small, rickety cot Granny had lent them. He tries to quiet his thoughts, or dull the ache in his empty arms, but he **_can’t_**. Bloody hell. 

****

She **_despises_** this. **Detests it.** She rolls this way and that in the upstairs bed at the loft, but no matter how hard she tries, she **_can’t fall asleep._** Who the fuck made up this stupid rule? Half the reason she’s marrying this guy is because she has **_no idea_** how to sleep without him holding her. And now she’s gunna look like a legitimate zombie on her wedding day (holy **_fuck, wedding_** , woah) all because of some dumb, age-old ritual. **_God._**

**_****_ **

He **_knows_** she can’t sleep either. To be honest, that’s why he’s even this keyed up in the first place. Ever since he got back from his tumble in Neverland, he hasn’t been able to walk 3 feet from her without her turning slightly pale and getting up to take his hand. She sleeps with her head in the crook of his collarbone and with one of her legs cinched between his two. Otherwise, she doesn’t sleep at all. He **_knows_** this. And it’s eating at him.

****

She knows he’s worrying about her. She’s okay, sort of, cause she’s got her mom and Elsa downstairs and she knows her dad is with him on the ship, but still. She’s upset, and also upset because she knows **_he’s_** upset. (And knows he’s upset cause he knows **_she’s_** upset.) It’s all just so **_upsetting._** And these blankets are too hot. And the pillow is too fluffy. And **_screw this._** She’s getting out of bed. 

****

He simply ** _can’t_** stay in this bed. If, eons ago, someone had told him that one day he’d be aching to be anywhere but his ship at nighttime, he’d’ve called them mad. But now, he throws back the covers and tiptoes to the ladder, careful to avoid the creaky spots so as not to wake up Dave. Maybe some fresh air will help.

****

She thinks about walking straight to the docks, but she doesn’t want to get a rise out of her father. And maybe she’s wrong, and he **_is_** sleeping soundly. It is his ship, after all.  So instead, she settles for the next best place, where at least there’s his things and sheets that smell like he’s there. She walks through the empty streets of their quaint little town, the only sound that of the rustling wind. She thinks of how everyone is snug in their beds, and how they all have outfits picked out for tomorrow, probably laid out and everything. Cause they’re gunna watch her get married. She shakes her head at it all, but can’t help the smile that creeps. **_Damn that smile._** It’s been creeping up on her a lot lately. 

****

He thinks about going to the loft, and sneaking up the stairs like he used to before they had a house together. But he stops himself, because what if he’s wrong? Whether she admits it or not, she’s been dreaming about her wedding since she was a lass, he **_knows it._** And maybe she’s into this whole don’t-see-the-groom travesty. **_She_** agreed to it, after all. So instead, he settles for the next best thing, where at the very least he can gaze upon the photos they’ve hung on the walls and maybe take a half-assed nap against her pillow.

****

When she gets there, the front door is locked. At first she kicks herself for being an idiot and forgetting her keys, but then she remembers that she’s got an ample supply of light magic. With a flick of her wrist, the door is unlocked, and as soon as she steps inside she feels herself start to calm down. She’s **_tired,_** honestly. She flicks her wrist again to lock the door, before heading straight for the stairs. On her way up, she takes her time, letting her eyes play over the picture frames that hang on the wall, reaching out to caress ones that house his beautiful, smiling face. By the time she reaches the top of the stairs, she realizes there’s no way **_in hell_** she’s going to be able to sleep. **_(She’s way too excited to marry this man.)_**

****

When he gets there, he skips up the front porch steps and reaches in his pocket for his keys. The night is quiet, the air is cool, and even though he hasn’t even made it into the house yet, he already feels better. He unlocks the door swiftly and steps inside, inhaling the comforting scent of home. He takes off his shoes and puts them in their proper place, before making his way up the stairs to his room. ( ** _Their_** room. ** _Theirs._** The room he’ll soon share with **_the one he’ll call wife.)_**  

****

It takes her a few beats to notice. She’s laying on her back, on his side of the bed, hair sprawled out against his pillow as she stares at the ceiling. She **_fidgets_** and **_wiggles_** , trying and failing to get comfy enough to sleep. He watches her from the doorway, his heart doing all sorts of things in his chest. **_Gods above_** , he thinks to himself. **_This woman._** **_I love her more than anything that shall ever exist._** He exhales with the weight of it all, and she hears the quiet huff. She snaps her head toward the noise and sits up, letting out a jittery exhale of her own as she lifts her arms in beckoning. 

****

He crosses the room wordlessly, climbing onto the bed and wrapping her up in his embrace in one graceful, fluid motion. She wiggles over to give him more room as he maneuvers her leg between his own, smoothing his hand through her hair as he guides her head to where it belongs, against his chest. She wraps her arms around him, reaching up with one to brush at his scratchy-soft stubble that she loves so much. They’re quiet for a minute as they settle into one another, inching closer and closer until there’s no space left between them. His stumped arm is held strong against her back, kneading at the flesh there. 

“You couldn’t sleep,” he says softly, his lips at her forehead. 

She rubs at the stubble, her fingers always in motion there. “And **_you_** couldn’t sleep, because you knew that **_I couldn’t_** ,” she states. 

“Aye, love. Whomever came up with the strange notion that-” 

“I know. They can rot in hell. I missed you **_so much_** ,” she says it and she means it and he knows it and it melts him. He rubs his nose against hers. 

“I just **_love you_** , darling,” he whispers, cradling her face, “I love you **_so much and I couldn’t-”_**

**_“I know,”_** she whispers back, closing the short distance between their lips to kiss him softly. “Till death do us part, right?” she jokes. 

He chuckles, shaking his head before dipping to kiss her again. “Oh **_my love,”_** he breathes at her playfully, “Not even **_then,_** and you **_know it.”_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angsty headcanon based on Killian’s traumatized face after Emma defeated Gideon. (Post 6x11)

She fails to notice. When she leaves their house claiming to have to pay a quick visit to August, she doesn’t notice the way he clasps at the hem of her jacket as she slips out the door. She doesn’t notice that when she shouts that she’ll be right back, he doesn’t answer; just watches her go down their front steps with a face that’s a mask to hide his anguish. She doesn’t notice that he reaches for her, that he tries to speak but _can’t_ , and then she’s in her bug, pulling out of the driveway, leaving him all alone on their porch, all alone to face the demons running rampant through his mind. 

*****

When she gets back 45 minutes later, he isn’t on the porch. She slips quietly into the house, and is genuinely surprised he isn’t in the kitchen with fresh cocoa, or even in the living room waiting for her on the couch. It’s eerily quiet, actually, and for a moment fear bubbles up in her chest as she gets the feeling that something is wrong. But after only seconds she’s settling, because she’s home now, they’re  _safe_ , and he’s obviously around here somewhere. 

As she kicks off her boots and heads for the staircase, her heartbeat decreases back to normal speed when the sound of the running shower comes into earshot. _See?_   _Nothing’s wrong, silly,_ she shakes her head, climbing up the stairs. _He’s safe._

The master bedroom is connected to a full bathroom, and steam is creeping out from under the closed bathroom door. “I’m home!” she shouts, unbuttoning her maroon-coloured coat and heading to their closet for a hanger. “Killian?”

The coat goes on the hanger, and he doesn’t answer her. She crinkles her nose in confusion, and suddenly the feeling she had downstairs is back with raging force. Something’s _wrong._

She drops the hanger and bolts to the bathroom door, throwing it open and calling his name again. Still, he doesn’t answer her. Steam billows out at her and she bats it away, heading straight for the shower. The glass is frosted, but she can see the rough outline of his hunched form in the corner of the small space and she doesn’t even think, she just _moves_. 

She slides the door of the shower open and he’s there, soaked under the scalding water, arms wrapped tightly around his knees. She repeats his name and crouches down immediately in front of him, soaking herself and her clothes in the process and holy _shit_ the water is _hot_. His face is contorted and his eyes are open wide but she can tell he’s far, far away. 

Her heart breaks in that instant, when she realizes it. She almost fucking _died_ in front of his eyes and the first thing she did afterwards was leave him all by himself to try to process what just happened and _Christ she’s a fucking idiot._

Tears burn in her eyes but she grips his shoulders and speaks as calmly as she can, meeting his faraway gaze. “Killian? Hey, I want you to focus on my voice, okay? I think you’re having a panic attack, but I’m right here. I promise you, I’m right here. Just focus on my voice, okay? I’m here. I’m just gunna switch the water, okay? It’s pretty hot and I don’t want it to hurt you.” 

He still hasn’t responded, but when she reaches up and yanks the water from hot to cold he startles, his whole body shivering and his face breaking and all at once he lets her pull him into his arms and he _cries._

He cries and he cries because that was the _moment_. Before his mother, before Liam, and then before Milah. The moment just prior, when you _know_ that it’s over. Where that’s it, there it goes, the whole life you’ve envisioned. That street and that sword and that hood and his _Emma_. It was over, he’d felt it, that sharp twist of fate he’d tried and failed to beat back. Swords clanged and magic swirled and there was nothing he could do. Another life ending, another lost future, another person he loved being ripped straight away from him. _That was the moment._

But then that moment ended, except it wasn’t the same. Not like before. She was standing, he could move again, but… _that was the moment. That had been the moment, because for him the moment always came…didn’t it?_

Emma holds him under the freezing water, cursing her drenched clothes for getting in the way of pressing her skin to his skin. She holds him as tightly as she can and he clings to her for dear life, trying his best to focus on the soft cadence of her voice telling him that she has him, that she’s safe, that she’s sorry. She urges him to take breaths with her and he tries, he really does, but then his mind takes him back to the dark of the street and the glint of the sword and his breathing goes back to ragged and he shakes his head, trying to tell her with his eyes that he just _can’t._

She gets it, and then they’re surrounded by magic, and suddenly they’re warm and tucked in their bed. She cradles him against her, her forehead gently pressed against his. She has one hand in his hair and the other on his cheek, wiping at his tears while she whispers. She’s whispering that she loves him, that she’s here, that they’re home, and it seems to take hours but he finally feels himself start to calm down. His lungs start to fill with a normal amount of air, his eyes can finally focus on her face, and he realizes that he’s holding onto her tightly enough to break her bones. He loosens his vice grip but by no means lets go, hyperaware of her fingers caressing his jaw and the way the wispy soft ends of her hair tickle the hollow of his neck. She’s here and she’s safe. She’s here and she’s safe. 

He lets out a powerful exhale, and she sighs in relief as she feels the waves of tension and terror start to wash away from him.  She massages his scalp as he settles, taking more breaths and relaxing into her arms. He thinks fleetingly of how he’s never letting her out of his sight again, of how she’s the only one who made it through the moment, of how he loves her and loves her and loves her. 

And _yes_ , that was the moment, but _this… this is forever._


End file.
